


Travellers Under a Weird Moon

by Ellienerd14



Series: Author’s Favourites [21]
Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Bart centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Friendships, M/M, Other, Rapunzel steals the show, Wendimoor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellienerd14/pseuds/Ellienerd14
Summary: "I regret to ask this of you, but I require your help.”“Who do you want me to kill?”“Not that kind of help. Something more subtle.”Infamous throughout Wendimoor for her skills in combat as the toughest mercenary in the land, Bart Curlish is used to being untouchable. But, beyond the tough outer layer she's haunted by her past in another world, with the debt of being rescued from her demons by Prince Panto Trost on her shoulders.Desperate to repay her debt to him, she agrees to aid him on his quest to rescue the Dengdamoor heir after he disappears. Along the way, Bart finds herself with a real friend for the first time in years.





	Travellers Under a Weird Moon

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the DGHDA Beginners Bang.  
> Features [art  ](https://monoceros-indomitus.tumblr.com/post/185212668178/my-beginner-dghdabigbang-illustration-for-the) by @monoceros-indomitus on tumblr

In Bart’s absence, Rapunzel had chewed up her favourite boots. Her dog now sat smugly on the remains of the worn brown leather. The chunk she had been attacking before Bart had come inside hung out of Rapunzel’s mouth. Unashamed of her act, Rapunzel tilted her head, blinking up at her innocently.

“Really girl?” Bart asked, shutting the door with a heavy slam behind her.

Rapunzel stood up and trotted over to sit at her feet, dropping half-chewed boot heel at Bart’s feet, her tail wagging proudly.

Bart stripped off her long coat, throwing it on top of an uneven pile of similarly blood-stained clothing. Her current boots were balanced on a shelf, away from her dog’s reach. Her sword was hung on a peg, close enough to the door she could grab it in an emergency. (Not that Bart relied on it, her bungalow was full of secret stashes of weapons.)

Bart unwrapped two burgers from a vine creeping into the corner of the ceiling, offering one to Rapunzel and scoffed her own. Not the best meal, but fighting always made her feel starving.

Bart curled up on the soft mattress in the corner, pulling a thick blanket around herself. As much fun her quests were, Bart missed her home comforts, like her nest of blankets and Rapunzel, no matter how determined her dog was to chew her way through her possessions.

Meal over, Rapunzel trotted over, lying on her pillow, stubby legs in the air hopefully. Bart rubbed her belly affectionately - until her fingers touched something cold and smooth amongst Rapunzel’s warm fur.

Paper. Slightly creased but carefully tied to her collar.

_A letter._

Bart opened her eyes again and pushed herself up, untying the letter from Rapunzel’s collar. It was written on fancy paper and addressed to _‘Lady Bartine’_ , her name written in neat, cursive script. There were few people who referred to her as ‘Bartine’ and only one who knew her current hideout. Hopes of the letter being from an old friend vanished. (He _never_ wrote but she kept hoping that one day, she’d hear back from him.) Flipping her letter over curiously, her suspicions were confirmed with the signature pink Trost house crest carefully used to seal the letter.

So, her debt had caught up to her then.

“This is why I hate talking to people,” she grumbled to Rapunzel, who licked her hand, oblivious to the weight of the long-promised favour on her owner’s shoulders.

 

* * *

 

_(One year ago)_

_Bart had always been fast. She had always been a good fighter. It was her livelihood, fighting, and no matter how many of the Mage’s army she faced, she always came out victorious._

_She never stumbled during battles, never hesitated, never got hurt._

_Despite this, she found herself cradling a bleeding arm as the lazy smile of Priest hung over her._

_“Marzanna,” he crooned her not-name over and over, “oh, sweet little Marzanna-”_

_Just as she began inching her injured hand towards her knife, Priest grunted in pain and  fell heavily, landing sideways besides her, eyes unseeing, mouth never to say her not-name again._

_A new, kinder, face looked down at her, offering a pastel-gloved hand and pulling Bart to her feet._

_“My lady, are you alright?”_

_She was ashamed to remember how she sobbed gratefully in response._

 

* * *

 

Panto’s letter contained a neatly sketched map, as well as an urgent request to meet him. Usually Bart would throw away any such request without a downpayment away, but Bart knew she would go, to listen at least. She wasn’t expecting any money anyway. After what Panto had done for her, out of nothing but selflessness, she owed him a favour.

Bart hated owing people favours.

 

* * *

 

 

_It had taken Bart an hour to figure out that her saviour was the Trost heir. She stayed away from Wendimoor’s politics, fighting for whatever side paid her best. But, the Trost’s vibrant hair colour was impossible to miss, even for an outsider._

_He’d wrapped her arm in a pastel bandage and helped her limp back to her bungalow. She’d been too trusting, looking back, too tired from all the running and killing and fighting. (Too grateful that Priest and his not-names and his ability to always make her feel small was a thing of the past.) Otherwise, her hideaway would have stayed hidden._

_Panto Trost had been kinder than she would expect from the most skilled swordsman in Wendimoor. He’d stayed until her ankle stop swelling and her arm was healed. He had brought her herbal teas and didn’t ask why the best assassin in Wendimoor had trembled under the gaze of an unarmed man._

_She’d promised him a favour, because she didn’t know how else to thank his kindness._

 

* * *

 

Bart had hoped that his repayment would just be another simple kill: it was what she was best at after all. When no request had come, in the weeks after she had recovered and parted ways with Panto, she had been briefly offended at the lack of news.

Part of Bart feared that he thought she was weak - smaller than the rumours, too scrawny, taken down by the likes of _Priest_ \- but now, months later, it seemed like the time had finally come.

She didn’t have long to wait, wondering who was dangerous enough that _the best swordsman in_ _Wendimoor_ needed an assassin’s help, before a tall figure stepped through the woods.

Panto bowed his head as he spotted her, “Ah, Lady Bartine, how good to see you.”

His tone was too casual, as if they were the closest of companions, and Bart tried not to be suspicious.

“Panto Trost,” she replied, a little stiffly, (she was better at killing people than at talking to them and it been years since a conversation that was more than just screaming), “so, you found my dog.”

“Such a delightful creature.”

“Rapunzel don’t gotta be the best guard dog,” she defended, “usually people don’t just come wandering in like that.”

“I apologise. You are quite difficult to track down in person, I felt a letter was best. I regret to ask this of you, but I require your help.”

Just as she had suspected. “Who do you want me to kill?”

“Not that kind of help,” Panto said, “though I respect your skill in that area. Something more _subtle_.”

Bart had three different guys blood on her pants and a sharp knife in each boot. She didn’t do subtle. But before she could explain that, Panto had offered her a small slip of paper from his chest pocket.

“You know of Silas Dengdamor?”

Bart studied the small portrait, slightly creased, showing a handsome young man, notably a Dengdamor by the orange and green house crest painted in the corner.

“Yeah, heard of him.”

She was far from an expert of the politics of Wendimoor but even Bart wasn’t oblivious to the feud between the Trosts and Dengdamors. The fighting between the two families had gone on as long as Bart could remember and according to the little history she knew, there had never been a time before the feud began. She’d tried staying neutral, fighting based off paychecks and without picking a side. It seemed like her time in shadows was over.

Panto took the portrait back, carefully refolding it before putting it back in his pocket.

“Have you heard of his disappearance?”

Bart shook her head. “He’s missing?”

“Kidnapped, I suspect,” Panto answered, hesitantly, “but I- I wish to find Silas.”

Bart quirked her head. “Don’t you win if he’s gone?”

“No one wins in this feud. Silas and I were going to stop it one day, bring peace to Wendimoor.”

“So, you were friends?”

Panto smiled wistfully. “We were more than that. A match that our families would not approve of, but my heart aches as we are apart. I know if I could find Silas and take him home, it would finally prove to them that peace between us was possible.”

“Oh.” Bart frowned, although not at the news. “If you didn’t take him, who did?”

“I believe the Mage’s army are responsible. I have searched my Father’s offices but he had no such link to Silas’ disappearance.”

Bart felt like it would be kinder not to mention the Mage would probably have any prisoners killed. She couldn’t bring herself to, when Panto seemed so hopeful, clinging to the chance of a heroic rescue, complete with a happy ending. No one knew better than her it was better to have closure when someone you cared for was missing.

“Lady Bartine,” Panto began, “you know the camps of the Mage well, could you guide me there so I may be reunited with my love once more?”

(She had maps, she could give him one and be cleared of any more favours. But, a scribbled list of instructions didn’t seem enough, not in comparison to finally ending the terror of Priest.)

Bart offered him an hand, “I’ll go with you. Then we’re even.”

Panto took it and they shook on it. “Thank you, my lady.”

 

* * *

 

They planned to travel to the Mage’s camp the next day, giving Bart a little time to prepare. She took a long bath, scrubbing the worst of the blood off herself. The water turned pink and her hair was still matted, but at least she didn’t have to worry about getting infected or attracting the attention of any of the strange creatures that wandered the Wendimoor wilderness.

Bart was used to travelling light, packing her collection of maps, a half-empty medic kit and weapons, with a spare tunic and coat at the bottom of her satchel. She balanced her sword on her belt.

Rapunzel whined as she watched Bart pack.

“I’ll be back soon,” she promised, pausing to scratch her ears. “No more eating my shoes, okay?”

Rapunzel made no such promises.

“Don’t be like that. I owe Panto. And K- he would want me to be all nice. I owe Panto, right, he saved me from Pri- from him.”

Rapunzel rested her head on Bart’s lap and licked her fingers.

“You want to come?”

She tilted her head, almost a nod.

“Fine, but you have to be nice to Panto. He’s a fancy prince.”

Rapunzel gave her palm another lick and wagged her tail.

Bart grinned at her. “Good girl.”

 

* * *

 

 

They met at dawn.

Panto came on foot, his own sword strapped to his waist, a heavy bag on his back. He’d changed from his more regal clothes to a simple but embroidered white shirt and worn looking brown pants. He wore the hood of his cloak over his brightly covered hair, his posture slumped slightly. She had a feeling he had sneaked out of the castle this way before.

He smiled as Bart approached, not questioning why she had brought a corgi on their quest.

“Lady Bartine,” Panto greeted politely, “I am most grateful you woke so early to meet me.”

Bart didn’t mention her usual lack of sleep and nightmares about Priest. She shrugged instead.

“I promised to help.”

“Of which I am most lucky.”

She pulled out the roll of map and opened it against a tree stump. Panto crouched near her, studying it. “It’s a few days walk away. Once we get nearer to the camp, we should try and use a rouse to get in and then use the element of surprise. Then bam,” she clapped her hands, scaring off a nearby rabbit, “we kill the guards and-”

“And then rescue Silas,” Panto finished, his eyes fixed on the wobbly diagram of a cage in the middle of the camp.

“That’s the plan,” she answered, trying to stay equally as hopeful. “You got a compass?”

Panto routed through his bag, finding the instrument under a pile of letters tied in green ribbon. Bart resisted the urge to peak at it, instead focusing on finding north. Once she found the Gentle trail (ironically named), she’d know the way. Until then, she’d have to stumble through the more unfamiliar part of the forest, closer to the Trosts’ land that usually tried to avoid.

“Are you ready, my lady?”

Bart patted Rapunzel on the head and stepped into the wilderness that made up the heart of Wendimoor. Nosey as ever, Rapunzel ran off ahead, sticking her nose in a small burrow.

Panto slowed his long strides down so they were even, his hand touching the hilt of his sword, eyes scanning ahead. Well trained, Bart noticed, and a little on edge. It was hard to tell if it was her, or the mission, or his missing lover.

“How’d you become the best in Wendimoor?”

Panto loosened his grip on the sword but his eyes were still fixed on the path ahead of them. “Training. Given my family’s rivalry my Father insisted I knew how to protect myself. I have been practising combat since I was a child. Alas, my sister was also prone to mean pranks when I was younger.”

Bart touched the cold metal of her own weapon. “Huh.”

“I am not the kind of man to declare myself one of natural talents. I work hard, title be damned.” Panto glanced at her in interest. “And you, my lady? May I ask of your training?”

“Natural talent,” Bart answered, with a lazy smile. Panto laughed, a sound Bart was used to going without. “Or street smarts. If you fight long enough, you realise it’s easier with a weapon in your hands.”

Panto nodded, although he must have suspected there was more to her story. “Perhaps there is an element of natural skill necessary. Silas is quite terrible with a sword. I am still surprised he knows what end to fight with.”

Bart snorted. “You should see the Mage’s army. One threw a knife at me and the wrong end made contact.”

“You truly are fearless.”

Bart looked at her second-favourite pair of boots and shrugged, suddenly all too aware of the last time she felt terrified. “I’m just good at killin’ people. You know how it is.”

“Your skills in battle do not cancel out the bravery,” Panto told her, “nor do any stumbles make you less of a fighter.”

She dropped her gaze, grateful for when Rapunzel circled back and gave them a distraction.

Bart knew exactly what kind of person she was but Panto’s gentle words of encouragement had left her face flushed.

 

* * *

 

 

They left the safety of the Trosts land and stepped into the thicker and untamed wilderness just as the sun began to set. Bart knew of the path they would need as soon as they reached an ancient tree, still standing mostly due to the colourful ivy curled around it. Under its thick trunk, they build a small fire and huddled around it.

Rapunzel lay between them, her head on Bart’s lap and lazily wagging tail brushing against Panto’s boots.

“It has been a long time since I’ve been in these parts of the wilderness,” he said, looking across the shadowy forest floor.

Bart scratched Rapunzel’s ears. “It’s safe here. Most of the story of bandits mean me.”

“Most of those stories involve groups of bandits, each more violent than the last.”

Bart shrugged, “it gets dark here and people like to tell stories. The only thing I take is food.”

“You really are remarkable.”

“I’m a leaf,” she replied, “I float and then I land and turn into a flesh-eating flower. Then I float away. It’s how it always has been. But, sure, I’ll take remarkable.”

Panto laughed at her. “I was not sure whether to ask for your help. The stories made you seem so wild. But, I am glad that you are in my company.”

“I gave you my word,” Bart answered, “I always keep my word.”

“Perhaps,” Panto said after a moment, “you are as wild as the tales. But, you fight with bravery. That makes you a noble fighter.”

Later, as she lay back under the starlight sky and smiling moon, Bart replayed all the nice things Panto had said to her. She was a mercenary; no one had called her _noble_ before. (The only other friend she had called her _beautiful_.)

He was so kind, that Bart wanted Silas to be alive for him.

 

* * *

 

Bart woke early, thanks to the warm sunlight pouring through the treetops and Rapunzel’s excitable barks as she chased birds around. The dying embers of the fire had warmed her boots (thankfully still unchewed), which she pulled on.

Panto was sat under the tree, the green ribbon twisted around his fingers. Bart waved, but he seemed lost in thought.

She examined the maps, getting crumbs on it as she snacked on a jam filled pastry. Bart knew the path already but it helped to be prepared. The Gentle trail wasn’t the quickest route but the Brotzman lands had been where she last confronted Priest and the memory still made her shudder.

Eventually Panto wandered over, the green ribbon tied around his wrist. He stopped at his bag, swapping the letter in his pocket with a water bottle.

“Good morning Lady Bartine,” he greeted, “I hope you slept well.”

She would have preferred her nest of knitted blankets (even bloodthirsty mercenaries needed hobbies) but there was something calming to sleeping in the outdoors. Like her answer to most of his questions, she settled on a simple shrug.

“You don’t have to keep calling me a lady.”

Panto looked offended. “To address you in another way would be an insult to us both.”

She snickered. “No one calls me a lady.”

“Then allow me to, my good friend.”

“Okay, weirdo. You can shorten it to Lady Bart. I never go by Bartine. That’s what he… Priest called me. When he used my name.”

He nodded. “Than I shall respect your wishes, Lady Bart.”

Bart looked at the map, the ugly taste of Priest’s name in her mouth. She bit into the last half of pastry, although it didn’t lessen the sick feeling the mention of _him_ brought.

“Should only take four days,” Bart pointed at the Gentle trail, leaving a sticky mark of raspberry jam.

“Did you make these maps yourself?”

She nodded. “I know these woods well.”

“You could have just given me the map,” Panto said.

Bart wiped at the stain, smearing the jam over the ‘G’, leaving them with directions to the ‘-entle trail’.

“Couldn’t let you have all the fun.” Bart wiped her sticky fingers on her pant leg.

“I am lucky to fight with your my side.”

She grinned wolfishly at him. “You haven’t seen me _fight_ yet.”

 

* * *

 

Rapunzel trailed behind them, her short legs struggling on the steep path. Bart held out a treat for her and heard her little paws quicken. She was tired, after a long day walking, just as the two of them were.  

Panto scratched her head and Rapunzel wagged around happily, seeming to like the Prince as much as Bart did. They’d spent their journey talking and talking and talking - more conversation in the two days of travel than during Bart’s past year. It was nice, to have someone to listen and make her laugh. Panto even taught her a rude song that had gotten him in trouble when he was younger and she hummed it during lapses of silence, sending them both laughing until it hurt.

He still hadn’t asked about Priest.

Bart wished he would, so she threatened to kill him if he did again and get it over with.  But waiting for the conversation to move towards Priest and her past made her feel mildly sick.

Instead, she asked about Silas. Bart had worried that Panto would feel as hesitant as her to share his past, but he’d done nothing but speak of his lover, missing or otherwise. Bart had learned that Silas was fantastic at archery, terrible at swordsmanship, kind hearted and wrote devoutly to Panto every day for the past four years.

“The letters were how I discovered he was in trouble,” Panto explained, “long before the Dengdamors accused my family. I knew he would not stop unless forced to.”

“So, you came to the most dangerous woman in Wendimoor,” Bart said, “just to find him.”

“Silas is my truest love. I knew my Father’s men would have no intention of helping me. I needed someone uninvolved in our family’s petty rivalry. You, Lady Bart, were perfect. Stronger than any army and uncaring of Wendimoor’s politics.”

“And owing you,” Bart added, before her mind caught up. “I mean-”

“You keep mentioning this debt,” Panto began carefully, “but I would not hold that against you. Although you seem unwilling to speak of any other aspects of our first meeting.”

Bart froze. “I-”

“There is no shame in asking for help.”

“I didn’t ask for help!” Bart yelled, startling both Rapunzel and Panto. “I couldn’t even ask for help. Why did you help me, anyway?”

“It was the right thing to do.”

“I kill people! I have killed your men as well as the Dengdamors. I could be crazy. Why did you help me?”

Panto stared at her. “You looked so afraid.”

“You’d be scared of him too.” Bart strode ahead, resisting the urge to cry. “I don’t want to talk about Priest, okay! Just shut up about him!”

The conversation fell silent. Panto did not speak to her again for another hour. Even then, it was only for further directions.

Bart had gotten what she wanted but perhaps that was worse.

 

* * *

  

The calm of sleeping in nature that helped Bart drift off peacefully the first few nights had lost its magic. The wilderness seemed too shadowy now  and Panto’s light snoring kept her awake.

Rapunzel had lay down on her lap, a warm presence, but Bart wished she would wake up so she could talk to someone. Instead, she was left to mutter quietly to herself.

“Who needs friends? How well did that work out last time?”

Instead of the silence of the wilderness as Bart had expected, she made out some other whisperings. Carefully tipping Rapunzel off her lap, she reached for the nearest weapon -  a small knife strapped to her discarded boots - and crept to a better position.

The whispers had not just been her half-asleep mind, but came from two men carrying a cart full of food. Their armour, half-hidden in the darkness, was familiar and of the Mage’s growing forces. They must have been closer to his camp then Bart had thought.

“I don’t see why we’re stuck with supplies run. Bloody cart doesn’t even work.”

“At least we have our weapons.”

“To fight what? The branches.”

Bart was hidden in the shadows and Panto was still sleeping. She could have slinked back into the dim night but Rapunzel had followed her over.

Bart shushed her, but before she could grab hold of her collar, Rapunzel trotted off towards the cart, smelling some kind of food.

Her hand gripped tightly around the knife and still lacking shoes, Bart crept closer to the men, holding her breath.

“Look at this mutt,” one roared, “looks even sorrier for itself then you Jenkins.”

Jenkins swore at him, looking at Rapunzel analytically. “Thought wild dogs were meant to be bigger.”

“Ignore it.”

Jenkins was annoying persistent. “Look, it has a collar on. Someone must be nearby.”

The other man started looking around, pulling out his own weapon. He wandered past Bart’s hiding spot and towards their camp.

“Hey, I see some remains of a fire. There must be someone nearby.”

Jenkin jogged over. “Not such rookies now.”

Bart cursed and followed the two men, waiting for them to separate or lose interest. Jenkins’s partner moved towards their dying fire and she stalked after him.

Her bare foot crushed a leaf and he whipped around. He held the sword high but his hand was shaking.

Bart hooked her foot around his and dragged him down with a startled yelp. He didn’t get to finish his cry before her knife slashed at him.

“Hey, this guy has pink hair, do you think he’s a Trost?” Jenkins asked his companion. No answer. “Come help me move him! Imagine how pleased the Mage will be if he gets a Trost and a Dengdamor to play with.”

The shouting seemed to wake Panto, who barely had time to stir before Jenkins pointed his sword at his throat. “Not so impressive now, are you?”

Bart threw herself at his back, distracting Jenkins long enough for him to fumble with his sword. Panto snatched it from the ground, leaping to his feet and making short work of his attacker.

He lowered the weapon, looking at her. “Lady Bart?”

She shrugged. “From now on, we sleep in shifts.”

Panto blinked hazily at her. “Your feet?”

She looked down, seeing her bare feet now caked in mud and blood.

“I’ll be okay.”

“You saved me,” Panto said, “I didn't even hear my attackers until it was too late.”

“I got lucky,” Bart said, “no rest for the wicked.”

“If you have not slept all night, you must rest now. I will watch over you.” Bart didn’t have time to protest before Panto pushed a cloth at her. “Clean yourself first, so you do not get infected. I will protect you.”

 

* * *

 

 

_“Where I’m from, we have this thing called Chinese food. Not as cool as plants that can grow burgers, but pretty close.”_

_“Wow, will you take me there one day?”_

_“I don’t actually come from China-”_

_“To your world? Please?”_

_He’d smiled at her. “Okay. One day. I’ll buy you all the Chinese food you can eat. Oh, there’s cool sour gummies. I bet you’ll like that too.” Ken unwrapped her a burger, their fingers brushing as he handed it to her. “This place is pretty weird but I guess my world must be weird to you.”_

_“I haven’t seen a lot of it,” she answered softly._

_But he heard her; Ken always heard her. “I know, I’m sorry. One day I’ll take you to the parts that aren’t shitty, okay?”_

_“Promise?”_

_Ken took her hand in his own. “Promise.”_

 

* * *

 

Bart woke up with wet cheeks. She often dreamt of Ken but it was rarely the sweet kind.

Panto was studying the maps, his sword in his free hand. Rapunzel stood guard in her own way, lying protectively on her now warm feet.

“Good morning, Lady Bart.”

“Morning.” Bart moved to pull on her boot, finding a new pair of knitted songs inside.

“I have moved the bodies of those men,” Panto said, “and thank you once more for your quick actions last night.”

“I just killed them.”

“No, my lady, you saved me.” Panto held up the map. “I have a few questions on the directions and then you are free to go.”

“Go?” she repeated. “Where am I going?”

“Home. You saved my life, as I did yours those months ago. Any debt you felt hanging upon you is now even. With the map, I can find Silas alone.”

Bart frowned. “I promised to help you.”

“You have,” Panto answered earnestly.

Rapunzel cocked her head curiously.

Bart shook her head. “I’m going to keep helping you. At least that way I have someone to talk to.”

Panto smiled at her. “A noble act. But, I had assumed the debt you spoke of so often was your only reason to help me.”

“I just hate broken promises.”

 

* * *

  

The cart had not yet been collected, so they positioned themselves to watch it. There was at least a month worth of food there and Bart was convinced more men would be send to collect it. Afterwards, they could trail them and find the camp.

They sat on the branch of a large tree overlooking the abandoned cart. At the base Rapunzel chewed on a bone they’d taken from the cart. This time, Bart had tied her collar to the tree, so they wouldn’t be exposed again by her curiosity.

“He used to be my friend,” Bart said, “Priest.”

“You do not have to tell me your story.”

“I’m staying because you’re my friend. I want to tell you.”

“I’m your friend?”

Bart nudged their shoulders together. “Yeah. I think so now.”

Panto smiled at her. “I am most honoured, my lady.”

“He used to my friend and he came from a different world. The first time I met him, I was thirteen.”

 

* * *

 

_“Fascinating,” Priest drawled, “another one and in a different world.”_

_“Another what?”_

_“Another brilliant mind.”_

_Bartine moved away. “What do you mean by brillant? Who else is like me?”_

_“I bet no one here understands you, Bartine.” Priest seemed dangerous but he seemed to have the answers that no one in Wendimoor did. “I won’t get mad you hurt people. I can help you learn to control it.”_

_“I’m not special.”_

_“You are more than special. You are holistic.”_

 

* * *

  

“Holistic,” Panto repeated, “a strange word.”

“It means connected to the universe. It’s why I’m a good fighter.” Bart fidgeted. “Maybe it is just a dumb word Priest made up. He lied about a lot of things to me. Made me feel real small and used a name that wasn’t my own.”

“I am glad to have rid you of him.”

Bart smiled at him. “Yeah, he was a pretty big asshole. It’s better he’s gone.”

There was more she wanted to tell Panto: about the rest of his visits, about the boy who lived in an alternate world that was like a twin to her, about the man who first saved her from Priest and how he was ripped away. But, Bart found herself without the energy to say anything more. _Later,_ she decided.

“I hated him so much,” was all she had to add.

They watched the ground below in silence. But this was the good kind, all the tension of the night before melted away, the kind of peace you only had with the company of a true friend.

 

* * *

 

 No one came for the cart until night fell.

“Hey, look at those assholes,” Bart whispered, pinching Panto, who lay back against the trunk sleepily.

They listened until the calls for their lost men ended and the grumbling that they would have to have to carry the heavy cart themselves. Once silence fell once more, they climbed down.

Bart untied Rapunzel, who ran ahead after the smell of food, leaving them with a clear guide.

They crept through the night, getting closer and closer to the camp: closer to Silas.

Panto twisted the frayed green ribbon around his wrist. “Soon, my love,” he whispered into the night.

The camp was an hours walk away and they arrived just as the light of dawn fell upon the camp. It was much larger than Bart had expected, with at least a dozen tents with no clear sign where Silas was hidden.

She caught Panto’s arm as he reached for his sword.

“Not yet,” she whispered.

“We are so close, my lady, Silas needs me.”

“We gotta figure out where he is first. And we can’t charge in, there’s too many of them.”

“We are the best fighters of Wendimoor.”

Bart sighed, “I’m all for killin’ everyone but a strategy helps.”

Panto frowned but didn’t protest as she dragged him a safer distance away.

“I cannot wait another day to be reunited with my love.”

“Tonight,” Bart agreed, “but first, we watch them. If they have a Dengamor Prince, they’ll keep him somewhere guarded.”

“No guard will keep me away from my beloved.” Panto glanced over at the camp hopelessly. “But, I see you are right. A miscalculated move may be dangerous for Silas.”

Bart patted his shoulder. “Promised we’d get him back, didn’t I?”

 

* * *

  

_They waited._

Usually Bart’s quests involved more action, more death, less patience, but the waiting was bearable if it involved talking with Panto. It was the most she’d spoke to anyone since she lost him.

She told him more about Priest - not everything, not even Ken knew everything and he’d been there for the end of it, but it was a start. Panto knew about the ugly stuff, like how Priest used her not-name, and the rare happy stuff, like the time he brought her ice cream after Bart first got a bullseye throwing knives.

She kept Ken to herself. Her selfless, kind best friend.

He was lost now, because of Priest, but there was still hope for Panto and Silas.

 

* * *

 

Their moment came as the preparation for the feast began. A large fire roared in the middle of the camp and the Mage’s soldiers began to drink, taking advantage of their new delivery.

It would be easy to slip in whilst the guards were distracted by their own food. Bart tried to ignore how the smell of pork reminded her Ken. He promised once, to show buy her sweet and sour pork, but the last thing she needed was the distraction.

They checked the outer tents, but most were empty, as the Mage’s soldiers gravitated towards the feast on offer. The biggest tent was in the heart of the camp, still guarded.

Panto caught her arm, seeming panicked suddenly. “Lady Bart,” he whispered, “Silas…”

“We’ll get him,” she reassured him, “I’m better than an army, remember?”

He nodded, although there was a slight tremor on the grip of his sword.

Slipping the knife out her boot, she sliced the side of the tent open, allowing them to slip in undetected by the guards outside. Panto pushed in front of her, rushing towards the wooden cage in the middle, hands reaching through the bars to shake Silas, who was slumped over.

“Hey, stop!” The single guard posted inside leapt to his feet, a worn novel slipping from his fingers.

Bart tossed the knife in her hands for practise, then launched it at the guard. He ducked but it still made contact, hitting the base of his neck as he collapsed on the floor. He never even got to unattach the sword from his hip. Bart bent over to retrieve her knife, wiping the blood off on the guard’s tunic and slipping it back into her boot. (Too easy.)

“Lady Bart, help me,” Panto pleaded, still struggling to waken Silas.

She got her first good look at him. Not as bad as she would have guessed, it was clear he’d been fed still. But his beard was unkempt and a little too long. His face was scarred alongside his left eyebrow and the blood hadn’t been cleaned, leaving a streak of dried blood there.

Panto still looked at him like he was the most beautiful he’d ever seen.

Bart pulled on the lock, teeth gritted together. Lock picking was not he best skill. She checked the pockets of the guard, which lacked the keys, and picked up his novel instead. It was heavy and she was stronger that she seemed, so after a few hard hits with its leather spine, the lock broke into pieces and fell to the ground. Who said subtlety worked best?

Panto raced into the wooden cage, crouched besides Silas in concern.

When he next spoke, his voice cracked with emotion. "He's alive. Exhausted, I suspect."

Bart glanced at the fallen guard. Blood from his throat had split out of the tear in the tent and was sure to alert another soldiers attention.

"Can you carry him?"

Panto nodded, handing his bag to her and carefully cradling Silas into his arms. He pressed a brief kiss to Silas' forehead, leaving a wet mark where his tears had run down. Bart felt like she was intruding upon something and focused on the task on hand - checking the perimeter. The camp was mostly empty, with loud laughter echoing from the bonfire in the centre.

Bart led the way, her own weapon drawn as they sneaked their way out of the camp.

Finally reaching the cover of the treeline, Bart untied Rapunzel, who licked Silas' hand in her own kind of support.

"Silas, my love," Panto said, gently stroking his hair back, "please awaken. I came for you. Did you know I would? Can you hear me?"

Bart glanced at the glowing red light from the camp. "We need more cover."

Panto nodded, although he made no effort to move yet. They were like a frozen scene from a fairytale, Silas lying almost peacefully on his lap, Panto looking down at him in adoration.

_"Panto."_

He stood at last, scooping up Silas into his arms once more, leading the trek into the wilderness, a new kind of terroritary at night. They crept through the shadows, silently, just as cries emerged from the bonfire.

Bart caught Panto’s eye and nodded. They took off into the wilderness, Rapunzel at her heel, Panto lagging behind her with Silas slowing him down. They kept running until they were both gasping for breath and laughing.

“We got him! We got him!” Bart chanted. “Right under their noses!”

Panto twirled her around, seeming to forget about his worries about Silas for a moment. “My love has returned to me!”

Rapunzel spun around their ankles.

Even in the darkness, Bart could tell that Panto’s smile would be the big earnest one.

 

* * *

  

By the first light of the morning, neither of them had slept. The Mage’s soldiers were no doubt still searching for the missing prince. Even if they were in the clear, Bart doubted they could sleep - she was still energised from all their running earlier and Panto refused to rest until Silas awoke.

They had taken a break, resting against the thick base of an orange tree. Bart was unfamiliar with this part of the wilderness but Panto claimed they had circled back to the Dengdamors land.

“Hello?” a soft voice called, “I- Panto?”

“Silas!” Panto fell back to his lover’s side, “you always did sleep well.”

“You’re here,” Silas said, as if he was yet to belief it, “perhaps I am dreaming.”

Panto pulled off his glove, pressing his hand against his cheek. “Does that feel like a dream to you?”

Silas propped himself up, kissing Panto briefly before throwing his arms around his neck and cling to him. “You saved me.”

“I had help.”

Silas looked over at Bart and waved. “You helped save me?”

“Only ‘cause Panto asked nicely.”

“This is Lady Bart. She guided me to you, fearlessly.”

Bart looked down. “It wasn’t hard.”

“They were going to kill me,” Silas said, “and leave me on my own doorstep in the hopes my mother would declare war on your family.”

“No more war,” Panto said firmly, “tomorrow we will return to your home _together_.”

“You helped us achieve this,” Silas said to Bart, “I owe you so much.”

She shook her head, finally at peace. “No more debts.”

 

* * *

  

_(In the months that followed, Bart found herself visiting the Trosts court more and more, watching as a truce - "it's a start," Panto insisted - was signed. She fought for herself but trained the new hybrid army against the Mage's own forces. Panto was a true friend to her and she felt less inclined to stay alone._

_Ken may not have returned from wherever he was - perhaps the other world, perhaps somewhere worse - but Bart slept easier knowing there was an entire army who would write to her if he was found again._

_As she joked with Panto, as he planned to ask for Silas' hand, Bart felt like the weight upon her shoulders was lightened._

_Things hadn't changed too much, she still slept under a weird moon instead of a dumb circle one like the other world, but she felt lighter, happier, than she had in years.)_

**Author's Note:**

> I really adore Bart and it shows. I wanted to give her a good arc - from isolated to accepting friendship, just like both seasons of the show give her (first with Ken, then with Panto) - as well as a bit of speculation on what Bart would be like if she grew up in Wendimoor. (You can HC how she got there!) 
> 
> I really hope I did Bart, Panto and the wonderful universe of DGHDA right. Please leave me a **comment** on how you thought I did, it would make this stressed out students day!
> 
> I've written other DGHDA fics if you want to check them out. Or say hi on my tumblr: @bazwillendinflames or twitter: @ellienerd14 to see me post about cool sci-fi things and pictures of my dog. :)  
> Reblog the [art here](https://monoceros-indomitus.tumblr.com/post/185212668178/my-beginner-dghdabigbang-illustration-for-the)


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